Emilio’s POV

My whole body froze.I turned slowly, almost scared I was imagining it, and there he was.

Sinclair.

He was leaning against a sleek black motorcycle like he belonged there—like the whole street was just a background made for him. He wore a black leather jacket that hugged his shoulders perfectly, the kind that looked worn-in but expensive. His jeans were dark and ripped at the knees, and his boots were heavy enough to make a soft thud each time he shifted his weight.

The moonlight caught on the metal of his eyebrow piercing, making it flash for a second. His hair was a mess in that intentional way,...